Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 60
Harry leaned back, thoughtful. "Makes sense... So where did you find the one you're talking about?"
Neville scratched his chin. "Second-floor girls' bathroom. I was following where they said the fifth-year Ravenclaw girl was found — the first victim. Right across from the spot, I noticed the bathroom and thought I'd check it out. Used your Invisibility Cloak, by the way" — he nodded to Harry — "didn't want anyone seeing me go into the girls' loo and thinking I'd lost my mind — or worse, start calling me a pervert."
Hermione giggled. "You're safe. That bathroom's not in use. It's haunted by a ghost — Moaning Myrtle. Hardly anyone goes in there."
Neville nodded. "Good to know. Makes it even more suspicious, then. While I was looking around, I found one of the taps had a tiny snake engraving on it — like, properly carved in."
Harry's eyes widened. "You think that's the entrance?"
Before Neville could answer, Hermione's eyes went even wider. "Wait—that's why you came back so late! You were waiting for the Heir to come back and use it, weren't you?"
Neville gave a small nod. "Yeah. I waited in there for about four hours, hidden under the cloak. Nothing happened, though. Either there's more than one entrance... or maybe the Basilisk doesn't need the Heir to move around."
…
Sunday, December 20th – King's Cross Station
The Hogwarts Express gave a lurch as it pulled into King's Cross Station, letting out a long whistle and coming to a full stop.
Hermione looked up from her book, glancing out the window. "We're already at King's Cross? Is it evening already?" she muttered, closing the book and slipping it into her sling bag before standing.
They could hear the compartment doors sliding open and students spilling into the corridor, eager to get off the train.
"I wonder if Daddy will buy me some pudding," Luna said dreamily, still staring at the window.
"Glad it's over," Harry said, standing with a stretch. "Blimey, I'm stiff as a broom handle."
"Same here," Neville yawned as he stood and stretched as well. Then he looked over.
"Oi, Hermione — your trunk."
Hermione had just reached for the door handle when she paused, then glanced up at the rack above the seats. "Huh? My trunk…?" she mumbled, confused. Then it clicked.
She slapped her forehead. "Right! Why do I keep forgetting to unshrink it? Honestly, this is like the fourth—no, third time. I'd have been stuck without it the whole holiday. Thanks, Neville."
She pulled the tiny trunk from her pocket and tapped it with her wand.
"Engorgio."
"Yeah, we wouldn't want Hermione without her books for two whole weeks," Harry said with a grin. "That'd be a tragedy."
Neville chuckled beside him.
Hermione rolled her eyes and shot them both a glare.
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. Let's see who helps you with your homework next term."
Still grinning, Neville stepped forward and picked up her trunk.
"Come on, I'll carry it."
Hermione's expression softened. She smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Neville."
They stepped out into the corridor, now filled with the usual chaos of students pulling trunks and saying hurried goodbyes.
As they neared the carriage door, Neville suddenly turned to Hermione.
"Oi, Hermione — mind doing me a favour over the break?"
She looked over at him, curious. "Sure, what is it?"
Neville smiled and rubbed the back of his head as he stepped off the train, looking at Hermione. "Could you let me know if there are any Premier League matches happening during the break?"
Luna tilted her head. "Premier League? Is that a league where premiers play against each other? Sounds rather cut‑throat."
Harry looked just as puzzled. "Football, mate?"
Hermione blinked. "Wait—Premier League? Isn't that a Muggle thing?"
Neville nodded. "Yeah. Remember when we went out to watch that film in London?" Both Harry and Hermione nodded. "Well, I had a chat with this bloke in a red jersey. He told me all about football and the Premier League. Sounded brilliant, honestly. Way more thought out than Quidditch if you ask me."
He chuckled. "Been wanting to watch a proper match ever since, but the season had already ended by that time. Thought I'd try and catch one over the break. If there's one on, maybe we could all go."
What Neville said was mostly true. He had spoken to a man wearing a Liverpool jersey — that red kit had reminded him something . It reminded him of who he used to be. Back in his old life, he'd been a massive Liverpool fan. Lived through the glory years under Klopp. Always dreamed of watching a live match at Anfield… but never got the chance.
Well, now he had one. He was in England — and this time, he wasn't going to miss it.
Hermione gave a thoughtful nod. "Yeah, my dad watches it sometimes. I'll ask him if he can take us to one." She shrugged. "Shouldn't be a problem."
Neville grinned. "Thanks, Hermione. Oh — if you can, try and find a Liverpool match. That's what the bloke said — one of the best clubs in England."
He added, "And don't worry about the money. Just tell me how much the tickets are and I'll cover them. Oh, and ask your dad if we can get one of those private booths. Be nice to talk freely without worrying about someone overhearing us mention magic or something that breaks the Statute of Secrecy."
Luna, still thoughtful, asked, "Do they serve Butterbeer at these foot‑ball matches, or just Muggle fizzy drinks?"
"Probably fizzy," Harry said.
Then, turning to Luna, Neville asked, "Would you want to come with us, Luna? We might go see a film as well while we're at it."
Luna tilted her head, her expression full of curiosity. "Movie? Is that one of those enchanted paintings that moves and tells you about your past lives or something?"
Harry snorted. "Not quite. It's like a moving picture, but longer — and it tells a story."
"Oh," Luna said with a nod. "I'll have to ask Daddy. I'll let you know by owl."
They had just reached the barrier that led into the Muggle side of King's Cross.
Hermione was the first to step through, and Neville brought up the rear.
As Neville came through the barrier, he was met with the usual crowd of students reuniting with their families — hugs, chatter, parents waving, little siblings tugging on sleeves.
Hermione was glancing about, eyes scanning the crowd.
Luna spotted her father through the crowd and turned back to the group. "I see Daddy! I'll owl you about the match. Bye, everyone!"
Neville waved after her. "Bye, Luna."
He watched as she darted through the crowd to a tall, eccentric-looking man in a mustard coat and a hat that didn't quite match. Xenophilius Lovegood, Neville thought. 'That man's odd. Wonder if he's always been like that, or if it started after Luna's mum died like a coping mechanism.'
Just then, Neville spotted Augusta standing near the edge of the platform. Her unmistakable vulture hat perched high on her head, handbag in hand. Beside her stood a couple who were Hermione's parents.
Neville nudged Hermione and nodded in their direction."Your parents are with Gran."
They made their way over. "Hello there, Gran. Mr and Mrs Granger — good to see you all," Neville said with a polite nod.
"Hi, Gran. Mr and Mrs Granger," Harry echoed warmly.
Wandle Granger smiled. "It's good to see you boys."
Hermione stepped forward and wrapped her arms around both her parents. "Mum, Dad — it's so good to see you!"
Bonnie gave them a cheerful wave. "Hello, you three. Hope the trip wasn't too rough?"
Augusta turned toward them with a raised brow. "Ah, there you are. I was starting to think you three had missed the train."
"Sorry, we kept you waiting, Gran," Harry said quickly.
Neville scratched the back of his head. "Yeah… sorry, Gran. We stayed toward the back — thought it'd be easier to avoid the crowd."
Hermione pulled back from her hug and turned to Augusta. She gave a neat little curtsy. "Lovely to see you again, Lady Longbottom."
Augusta gave a pleased nod. "And you as well, Miss Granger. I trust you've been keeping well?"
Hermione nodded
Augusta then turned to Wandle and Bonnie. "Well, we should be off — it's getting rather late. Please do join us for Christmas. You're both most welcome."
Wandle and Bonnie exchanged a surprised but pleased look.
"That's very kind of you," Bonnie said. "We'll definitely consider it. Thank you."
"Thank you again, Lady Longbottom," Wandle added with a smile. They all exchanged goodbyes before Augusta turned, leading Neville and Harry toward the station's exit.
…
Later – Longbottom Manor, Dining Room
When they'd arrived back at Longbottom Manor, Augusta had told them to freshen up before dinner. The house-elves had been instructed to prepare a proper feast — nothing too extravagant, just a warm welcome-home meal.
Now the three of them sat at the long dining table, plates filled with roast chicken, buttered vegetables, and steaming mashed potatoes.
Neville cut into his chicken, taking a bite. Across the table, Augusta sipped her soup delicately before setting down her spoon.
"So, boys," she said, voice calm but eyes sharp, "how's school? Anything… interesting happening?"
Neville swallowed his mouthful and gave a noncommittal shrug.
"Well, you know… the usual. Homework. Revision. Professor Snape being a nightmare."
He arched a brow at her. Doesn't she know? he wondered. Then, leaning forward slightly, he asked,
"You're still on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, right? Surely you've heard by now."
Augusta sighed and set her cutlery down.
"Yes, if you're referring to the Chamber of Secrets… then yes. I've heard."
Harry glanced up from his plate.
"Gran, what's actually going on? Why hasn't it been in the news or anything?"
Neville nodded.
"Yeah, it doesn't make sense. I thought it would've been all over the Daily Prophet by now."
Augusta let out another sigh.
"It's politics, boys. Our dear Minister, Cornelius Fudge, doesn't want mass panic. If word got out, the public would go mad. Dumbledore agrees, to a point — says he's looking into the matter personally. But between the Ministry and the Board, they're desperate to avoid closing Hogwarts. It's the only magical school in Britain, after all."
She paused, lifting her glass but not drinking just yet.
"That, and the Minister doesn't actually believe the Heir of Slytherin is back. He thinks it's just some student prank gone too far."
"So they're just waiting for Dumbledore to sort it out?" Neville asked, frowning. "What about the students who've been petrified? Their parents — were they even told?"
Augusta pursed her lips and slowly set her glass down.
"As I said, they're trying to avoid panic. No, they haven't been told. Not properly, at least. The official word is… minor magical mishaps. And because the victims are 'only petrified' and not seriously harmed, yet they're brushing it aside."
She gave them a pointed look. "It's pure-blood politics, boys. Ugly business. Since all the victims so far have been Muggle-born, the Ministry doesn't see it as their problem. Not yet."
Neville's grip on his fork tightened slightly. "So they're just going to wait? Hope it sorts itself out?"
Augusta gave a curt nod. "For now, yes. Until Dumbledore finds proof, or the wrong child gets hurt… they'll continue sitting on their hands."
Harry frowned. "But students are getting petrified. If someone dies—"
"Exactly what I told the Board," Augusta cut, setting her glass down with a clink. "Yet several governors — Mr Malfoy loudest among them — argue that closing Hogwarts would 'send the wrong message'."
Neville let out a sigh. "What about the Mandrake Restorative Draught? Why hasn't the school just bought it? I'm sure there are apothecaries out there selling matured mandrakes already. It's daft to wait for the ones at Hogwarts to grow — the victims probably saw who did it, didn't they? Waking them up could solve the whole thing. Otherwise they're gonna miss out on an entire school year."
Augusta's mouth tightened slightly, though there was a flicker of approval in her eyes. "I raised that very point, Neville. But unfortunately, certain governors — Lucius Malfoy in particular — claim imported mandrakes are 'too expensive' and call it wasteful spending."
She took a slow sip of her sherry. "They voted to wait on Professor Sprout's crop. It's cheaper, you see. Typical short-sighted foolishness."
Harry looked puzzled. "Why haven't they brought in the Aurors, then? Wouldn't it make more sense to have them investigate the school properly?"
Augusta let out another long sigh. "Dumbledore assured the Minister he would handle it himself. And the Minister—being more concerned with public image than student safety—doesn't want to cause a scene. He'd rather the whole matter be dealt with internally. Quietly."
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Though Lucius has certainly been… active behind the scenes."
Neville leaned back, folding his arms. "Huh. Something tells me Mr Lucy's got more to do with this than he's letting on." He glanced over at Harry. Of course, Neville already knew full well that it was Lucius who slipped the diary into someone's hands.
Augusta caught the look between them and narrowed her gaze. "I know that plotting look, Neville. Promise me you won't do anything reckless."
"Reckless? Us?" Neville gave her his most innocent expression. Harry nearly choked on his pumpkin juice, trying not to laugh.
Augusta raised an eyebrow. "Listen to me — both of you. Do not go meddling."
Neville raised his hands. "Course not, Gran."
There was a brief pause as the clinking of cutlery resumed. Then Neville looked up again.
"Say, Gran… when was the Chamber last opened? Something did happen, didn't it?"
Augusta's gaze sharpened slightly. "I see you've been doing your own digging into this," she said. After a small sigh, she nodded. "Yes. It was opened fifty years ago."
Harry looked up, surprised. "That long ago?"
"I don't know the full details," Augusta continued. "It was all kept hush-hush even back then. But yes… a Muggle-born girl was killed. That much I do remember."
Neville frowned. "Do they know who did it?"
Augusta shook her head slowly. "Whoever it was… they were never caught. Dumbledore was just a Transfiguration professor at the time. Professor Dippet was the Headmaster then. They nearly closed the school over it."
Neville leaned back slightly in his chair, gears turning in his head. "So history's just… repeating itself."
"Seems that way," Augusta said grimly.
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